


Catnip For Aliens

by mansikka



Category: Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019)
Genre: Christmas, Domestic Fluff, Drunken Confessions, M/M, POV Alex Manes, Silly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-16
Updated: 2019-12-16
Packaged: 2021-02-26 00:48:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,874
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21819613
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mansikka/pseuds/mansikka
Summary: Alex brings home a poinsettia to add to the festive feeling of their cabin. How was he to know it's like catnip for aliens?
Relationships: Michael Guerin/Alex Manes
Comments: 52
Kudos: 153





	Catnip For Aliens

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SaadieStuff](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SaadieStuff/gifts).

Alex turns on the radio in the kitchen smiling when a jazzy version of Rudolf The Red Nosed Reindeer is already playing, imagining Michael dancing around the kitchen to his favorite Christmas song. Michael _loves_ Christmas. Alex had never really put much thought into it before they moved in together, always smiling for the way Michael used to fill his Airstream with decorations that crept into the cabin long before he moved in. Though last year, their first Christmas living together, Alex had left the house still bloated from Thanksgiving at the Crashdown with Arturo and Liz, and returned home to something resembling Roswell's very own Santa's grotto.

That Michael had greeted him that evening wearing only his cowboy hat with a sprig of mistletoe hanging from it _might_ be one of Alex's favorite starts to any Christmas. He smiles for the memory as he opens their fridge pulling out the dumpling mix he'd made earlier, wondering if Michael can be persuaded to do the same this year. Since he is home before Michael today he's going to get dinner ready. Beef stew, since Michael mentioned it three times in his messages to him. Michael doesn't need to know that Alex came home from work at lunchtime to get the crockpot going with it; there are a lot of perks to freelancing in computer security, and this is one of them. If all goes to plan, Michael should walk in just as the stew is ready to dish up.

Michael has been working hard all week. He deserves this homely dinner, perhaps with a glass of the wine that he's taken a liking to and maybe even a long hot bath once their dinner has gone down. Or a massage. Whatever he wants; Michael's been pushing himself to get through as much work at the scrapyard as possible so they'll have so much of the Christmas period off together. Alex is going to indulge in _pampering_ him. He fills a glass with juice and turns the radio up, humming to himself as he shapes the dumpling mix into balls.

Alex smiles when he hears Michael's truck pulling up outside earlier than expected, quickly dropping the dumplings into the stew and washing his hands. He opens the door and steps out on to the porch, laughing for Buffy's soft _woof_ as Michael picks her up out of the truck and carefully lowers her to the ground.

"Hey, girl."

Buffy charges up the porch ramp towards him, dancing around his feet and pushing her head into his hands. Her tail thumps against his stump in her excitement to see him before she's sniffing the air and running inside. Alex leans back to watch her lapping at her water bowl, turning for Michael's footfall on the porch. Everything in him _settles_ for seeing him; not that there is much turmoil in Alex's world anymore. It's just him, Michael, who makes everything in his world better just for being there.

"Hi."

"Hi," Michael replies, adjusting the bag he's carrying and cupping Alex's face one-handed to draw him in for a kiss. "Good day?"

"Pretty good."

"You get everything done you wanted to?"

"I did," Alex says, laughing when Buffy trots back out as if to say, _aren't you coming in?_ "How was your assistant today?"

Michael bends with one hand still at Alex's waist to rub Buffy's ears. "An angel as always. I swear I never used to get anywhere near as many tips before Buffy started coming to work with me."

"She's your good luck charm."

"She's also had about seven treats today, so, don't let her tell you otherwise."

Buffy looks up at Michael with a mournful look that _clearly_ says, _traitor_.

"Something smells _good_," Michael says then, inhaling and puffing out his chest as he looks through the open door.

"You said you wanted stew," Alex tells him, stroking a hand down Michael's back, gently nudging for him to go inside.

"I didn't think you'd actually make it."

Alex covers the hands at his waist as he goes to check the dumplings are okay, resting his head back against Michael's shoulder. "At least half an hour since I put the dumplings in cold, if you wanna sit, or washup, or anything?"

"I think, a really quick shower," Michael replies, kissing his neck. "I had this car in today that… man. I can't even tell you how many things were wrong with it. But I _stink_ from crawling all over it trying to figure out where the hell to start."

"Okay. But you don't stink."

"Biased," Michael calls over his shoulder. Alex grins after him, taking his time to set the table ready for their dinner.

Michael is quick, back in the kitchen with him still pulling on his t-shirt, thoroughly distracting Alex from the article he'd been reading at the counter on his laptop. Michael catches the way he looks over him and _winks_, sauntering up to him with that swagger that Alex has tried and failed to show how much it gets to him over the years. Not that he bothers pretending anymore, of course, closing his eyes for the way Michael molds against him, kissing him before wrapping Alex up in a hug.

"Anything I can do?" Michael asks, holding him by the waist as he nods towards the crockpot.

"Wine?"

"Wine it is."

Alex smiles for the kiss to his cheek, peering at the swelling dumplings satisfied with how they're looking, then returns to his article since he only has a couple more paragraphs to read. He turns the radio off since Michael will no doubt put something on to listen to in the living room. Though what he hears instead is _cursing_; the kind of cursing Alex is more used to hearing when they're wrapped up in one another in their bed.

"Michael?" Alex asks, curious as he walks towards the living room, coming to a stop in the doorway and laughing in surprise for finding Michael on his knees, the curve of his back over the coffee table. "What are you doing?"

Michael's hands grip knuckle-white around the table edge, and when Alex walks in, it's to find Michael with his face pressed up against the poinsettia he'd bought on a whim, thinking it would add even more festivity to their home.

Alex calls his name again when Michael doesn't answer, his heart beginning to speed up for the way Michael's breath seems to be difficult. It's almost as though he's _purring_, Alex thinks in alarm, coming to stand beside him and resting his hand on Michael's back. Buffy takes one look at them both and curls up in her bed as though to say _I am having no part in any of this_.

Michael arches for Alex's touch, that _purring_ sound only seeming to deepen. Alex taps him on the back asking Michael to look up, eyes wide in surprise when he finally does. Michael's eyes are glassy and round, his pupils blown, and the look on his face is _blissful_ like he's stoned.

"What," Michael rasps out, lovingly caressing the poinsettia plant in front of him, "the hell, is _that_?"

* * *

"Okay. No, Liz; tell Max not to worry—he's _fine_. Just… I'll keep an eye on him. _Yes_; I'll call if anything happens. Okay. Okay; bye."

Alex ends his call to Liz not able to take his eyes off Michael, who is currently sat cross-legged on the couch cradling the poinsettia in his lap. He keeps bending down to sniff it, apparently not thinking to pick it up to make it easier for himself. His fingers run repeatedly over the leaves and flowers, and that _purring_ sound from earlier still fills Alex's ears. Michael is currently like a cat; a giant, bipedal, alien _cat_ who's been let loose on catnip and is not giving it up.

Putting his phone on silent—a habit they've both adopted when they're home alone together—Alex makes his way around the coffee table and sits down beside Michael. Michael lifts his head up, grinning at him like he's the best thing he's ever seen. He looks so _happy_; how could Alex ever begrudge him that?

"You doing okay?" Alex asks, reaching up to push his fingers through Michael's curls, stifling a laugh for the way he pushes his head into his hand and moans softly for the attention.

"I'm doing_ great_."

"Yeah?"

"This is the best thing _ever_," Michael says, hugging the poinsettia to him and sighing in contentment.

"Well, good."

"Where'd you get it?"

"At the market? Near my office."

"I _like_ your office," Michael tells him, beaming at Alex as he drops his head back against the couch.

"Me too."

"I really like your _desk_," Michael adds, which has Alex screwing his face up desperate not to laugh. He has a rented office space that he got purely because if he works from home all the time he gets distracted by just _having_ a home; especially when Michael is with him. Though Michael visiting him in his office has proved counter-productive once or twice. Alex clears his throat trying not to think about the slight crack there is in one of the desk's legs from one of those visits.

"Yes. It's a... good desk."

"The _best_."

"Yes."

"Hey, Alex," Michael says, his hand darting out without warning to grab Alex's thigh. "Remember that night we sat out in the desert in the truck, and it started raining? Like, out of nowhere?"

"...yes?" That was over two years ago now. One perfect evening when they were still fresh out of learning to love one another without wounding each other in the process. It's one of many cherished moments to Alex, though he doesn't know why Michael is bringing this up now.

"I just wanted you to know, that you smelt really, _really_ good."

Alex pleads with himself to not laugh, stroking his fingers over the back of Michael's hand. "Well. Thank you."

"Like, earthy, and comfortable and, like, _crisp_. _Sweet_. Like an apple, or something; I don't know."

"Well. That's good."

"I know." Michael slaps his thigh then moves and drapes himself over Alex, now cradling the poinsettia between them. "You smelt like _home_. You always _do_."

Alex adjusts Michael's leg across his lap, resting his hand against Michael's thigh. "Well. You're my home too, so. I think that makes sense."

Michael tries to kiss him, giggling when he misses, then giggling harder when Alex starts laughing too. "What'd you do to me, Alex?"

"I _think_ it's the poinsettia."

"No." Michael shakes his head, adamant and earnest. "Not _this_. Though _this_," he says, bending to stick his face in the plant again and inhaling in satisfaction, "this is _very_ good."

"Good. I'm glad."

"But _you_," Michael says, adjusting the poinsettia so he's still hugging it though now has a hand free to rest on Alex's chest. "You changed my _world_. You _are_ my world, Alex. _Everything_."

There is no need for Alex to be teary-eyed. Michael is, for want of a better word, _high_, so all these endearments are just drunken extensions of his usual affection. Alex kisses him anyway, squeezing his hand around his thigh.

"You're mine too. Always," he tells him, fighting more laughter when Michael sighs like he's the happiest person in the world. Who is _still_ purring. It's not quite a cat purr, though it's close enough. Alex's heard similar noises from him before, of course, though in _very_ different settings. This is adorable beyond words, and part of Alex can't wait to tease him about it later, already picturing the beautiful blush the will light up his cheeks. So little fazes Michael, so the few things that make him blush Alex catalogs; not to embarrass him, but to cherish those moments when Michael really lets his guard down.

"Alex," Michael whispers then, leaning closer like he needs to tell him a secret. "I'm _hungry_."

"Well. I can do something about that."

"You can?"

Michael being wide-eyed and in awe for no good reason at all aside from hearing about _dinner_ has Alex carefully extracting himself from Michael's grip, bending down once he's stood to kiss him on the forehead. Michael paws at him not wanting Alex to leave, though he also doesn't want to let go of the poinsettia either, apparently. Which is going to make eating their dinner a challenge. Alex debates bringing the stew through on a tray though thinks that will only encourage Michael to keep the plant in the crook of his arm while he eats. His coordination is a _little_ off, so with a little encouragement, Alex gets Michael to his feet, securing him around his waist when he wobbles.

"Okay. You think you can put that thing down? No? Okay."

Michael pouts, hugging the poinsettia tighter to him, turning slightly in Alex's grip. So Alex instead leads him backward towards the table pulling out a chair for him, biting back his laughter for the image of Michael sat at the dining table cradling the poinsettia plant to him. He won't take a picture, though he is tempted to, taking a few extra minutes in the kitchen to compose himself.

When Alex returns to the living room with the crockpot ready to dish up straight from, Michael is crooning to the poinsettia along to some music Alex didn't even hear him put on. He looks up at Alex when he sits in sheer surprise, like he's been gone for hours instead of barely five minutes.

"You're here!"

"Yes," Alex says, taking Michael's bowl to fill and spooning a healthy measure of stew into it along with two dumplings, almost dropping it for the _noises_ of gratitude Michael makes.

"I could stick my face in this. It smells so _good_."

"Well. That would burn, so maybe don't."

Alex tries to breathe through his nose to force back the urge to laugh again for Michael bending to sniff the stew anyway, sitting up looking startled when it catches the tip of his nose. He pouts for it, going cross-eyed trying to see it. Alex grabs a napkin to wipe it from him then leans across to kiss him on the nose, earning himself a beaming smile.

"What was that for?"

It's going to be a long night, Alex thinks, taking care as he spoons his own stew into his bowl, trying once again not to laugh.

* * *

Alex's sides hurt from laughing so much. That damn poinsettia has been _everywhere_ with them tonight. In the kitchen when Michael insisted on washing the dishes where he got distracted by the dish bubbles; out on the porch when Buffy whined to go for a late night walk; on the floor of the living room where Alex attempted to give him a massage while Michael refused to let go of it; and now in bed—though thankfully he's at least put it on the nightstand. Maybe he's sniffed all the scent out of it by now and the effect of it on him isn't so strong.

"Lovulex," Alex hears, which he interprets through the words being muffled into his chest as either _love you, Alex_ or _love you lots_. It could be either, and will be about the hundredth endearment he's heard this evening. Not that he minds. Alex strokes through his curls smiling for the way Michael sighs for it and tries to snuggle even closer to him.

"I love you."

"It's Christmas," Michael says, marginally clearer for lifting his head up and dropping his chin against Alex's chest, still glassy-eyed.

"Well. We have a _few_ days yet."

"No. It's Christmas _right now_," Michael insists, emphasizing his words with sloppy kisses to Alex's skin. "It's _Christmas_ 'cos we're _here_."

Alex's poor sides. He smiles anyway when Michael looks at him still earnest and humble, and all the other sweet things he's been all night. "Yes. It's Christmas right now."

"And from Monday, it's _only_ Christmas. 'k, Alex?"

"Of course."

Alex can't wait; for two whole weeks of staying in bed with Michael beside him, for neither of them having to go anywhere to do anything they don't want. Christmas Day will be at Isobel's, and New Year at Max's. And in between that there are dinners at theirs, and with Kyle, and Maria and Mimi, and even a group dinner with Arturo at the Crashdown. They have a family now, scattered throughout Roswell, and one day plan on adding to that family with children of their own.

He wants to get a ring on Michael's finger first, though. The box with their rings in is burning a hole in his closet, hidden behind gifts that are already wrapped so Michael is less tempted to be nosey, which Alex _knows_ he is being.

"I can't wait to have Christmas with you," Michael says, moving up the bed and depositing his face in Alex's neck, a whisper of a purr hitting Alex's ear as he strokes his hands over Michael's back. He'll have to move him soon; Michael _stoned_ is a deadweight. Though for now Alex only clings on tight, smiling when he catches sight of the now-crumpled poinsettia on the nightstand out the corner of his eye.


End file.
